Airholen stretches as he exited the Pandarian farmhouse. The smells of an active farm fills his nostrils. The pigs, chicken and yak meander about eating. The dog sat at the base of the steps watching over them and the cat was sitting on an old stump cleaning himself. He loved the rustic living that he found out here on the Pandarian continent. And getting away from the crystal powered ark was what drove him out into the world and away from his people.
Panterra purred at his side. She was his constant companion. Her spotted white fur was soft to the touch as his brushed along his tail. She also seemed to prefer this place over most of the place his people, the Draenei, could be found. Walking down the stairs, Airholen surveyed the farm and started to walk its perimeter. He didn’t fear that any creatures were damaging his fence line because the farm was on the outskirts of Halfhill. He wondered back around the house.
The building sits up on stilts. There was a stairs that took it up to the low circular doorway. The thatched roof was fresh and yellow. The interior was simple one room affair with cooking fire, bed and desk with chair. It was sufficient for his needs, and didn’t have that hard feel of the stone, metal and crystal of Exodar. The wood grains and vegetable fiber carpets and bedding.
This home and its isolation it provides from the bustle of world really was what he valued the most. There was nothing else that compares to this calmness this place provides. He was home, and that was all that mattered.